Trinity
by dropdeadred
Summary: A Dracula-centric story exploring the possible origins of the story as presented to us by Sommers' movie.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 

Dracula could do nothing but stand, appalled at the blunt fact of it, as he felt the life ebbing out of him. Disbelieving, he looked down to see his blood running freely away into the dirt to join that of his ancestors and his people. Spasmodically he clutched at the wound, as if he could gather his blood back into himself and stop the escape. He knew from experience, from so many fields of battle, that he had little time left, and he raised his eyes to his assassin.  
"I knew they would come for me, Gabriel, but to send you? These are low dealings even for Rome." His quiet voice dripped disappointment, hatred.  
"I could hardly believe it when they first summoned me. I refused to believe it of you." His eyes flickered to the view beyond the half crumbled walls of the ruin in which they now stood. "But I come and find this…" his voice trailed off and he shook his head sadly.  
Dracula found himself amused to see that his murderer's hand remained on his weapon still.  
"You brought it all upon herself, you need to just open your eyes."  
"The Church did nothing to deserve these horrors, she aims to protect these lands!" Van Helsing raised his voice.  
"And who will protect them from her, ah?" Dracula spat back. "When she has squeezed the last drop of obedience and will from us all, then she drops us like we carry the plague! She damns us!"  
"Erzsebet suicided, Vladislaus, the Church could not save her soul."  
At the mention of the name, Dracula became enraged.  
"You do not speak her name, you are unfit to bear her memory!" He spat on the ground at the other man's feet. "I will not honour an institution that will condemn such a perfect human being!"  
"She became an abomination the moment she decided to take her own life! And you took another woman to your bed out of _respect_?" Gabriel scoffed.  
"I curse you!" Dracula screamed, his rage fast outpacing his agony. "I curse Rome, I curse the whole of Christendom! I renounce it all! Hear me, I renounce God! From this moment forward the Church is dead to me!" He fell to his knees, the ferocity of the emotions coursing through him advancing his decline. His voice came quieter now: "In the name of the Devil," he watched Gabriel's face as he said the words. "In the name of the Devil I curse you. With his help I will not rest until the injustices Rome has visited upon my house are returned upon them." He grimaced as a wave of pain coursed through him, but seeing Gabriel's white, horrified face through his own haze, he laughed. He imagined the picture he must present to this upright man of God, now, on his knees leaching the soil red with his unclean blood, renouncing God and the Holy Church and laughing like a madman.  
"Now you are truly dead to me, Vladislaus," Van Helsing muttered. He made the sign of the cross and began to back away.  
"Spare me your blessing, Van Helsing," Dracula choked. Van Helsing merely stood back, waiting for the inevitable.

So this was to be his fate, Dracula thought bitterly. In all honesty he did not know if renouncing the Church meant anything at all, but in that quiet moment he knew that he would give up anything to be able to live to fight another day, and he renewed his dark vow silently. His rage dissipated as he knelt on the cold, hard ground, the chill permeating his bones. Not long now. His anger deflated, he was alone once more with his thoughts.

Something in the periphery of his vision caught his attention and he swung his head drunkenly towards the movement. A pale woman wrapped in a thick, rough cloak stepped through the tumbled walls and rushed to him.  
"My Lord!" she whimpered, afraid to touch him but desperate to act.  
"Verona," he started to protest her presence here when he had sent her to the city for safety, but it all seemed irrelevant anyway. His vision was shadowed now, but he could see Verona's beautiful face, contorted into a gruesome mask of pain and fear. Her gaze clung to his, hoping to hold him to this plane of existence by sheer will and want alone.  
"We need to get you back to the Castle, my Lord," she said, her voice cracking on a sob.  
"It's alright my dear," he collapsed back to lean against the wall. "I just want to rest here for a while."  
"But you'll die…" she cried quietly in vain, knowing it was redundant. She cast a scared glance back at where Van Helsing stood with his back to them, out of earshot. "I should kill him for robbing me of you."  
With his last remaining strength, Dracula reached for her, gripping her arm. Though still ashen from the previous pain and the loss of blood, his face was untwisted now, as if he had passed through his passion and emerged clear-headed and enlightened. Verona started in fear at the chilling effect.  
"You will not be robbed, Verona. I shall not leave you."  
She shook her head in disbelief and non-comprehension, but he slumped softly back and was still. Silent in her deep grief, Verona could only sit and watch as death came over her love. Her eyes widened as he seemed to regain some color, his face now lacking the drawn tension looked almost alive again, as if he were merely sleeping; but when she reached out to touch him, his skin was cold and no heart beat within the body of her lover. So dead inside was she, that she could not fight when Van Helsing returned for his body.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

48 Hours Earlier.

_I do not like this_, Verona thought to herself. _No, I do not like this at all_. Her beloved had been walled up in the main keep now for most of the morning. At dawn a messenger had ridden into the city at a clattering, teeth-jarring speed, hardly slowing his foaming, steaming mount to alight and make for the stairs at a run. The people milling in the courtyard returned to their comings and goings, but Verona had froze mid stride, her eyes fixed on the door of the bailiff's offices into which the rider had disappeared. Barely one minute later the door banged open and a boy set off at a run for Dracula's personal offices.

Verona had caught up with her Lord halfway between his rooms and the great hall that served as a meeting place for large briefings and campaign planning. Ever conscious of her place she fell into step beside him, informing him by her presence alone that she required his counsel.  
"You saw the messenger?"  
"Yes my Lord. I also see you and your men converging on the war room."  
"I will not tell you there is nothing to worry about, Verona." He kept his eyes forward, but his tone was soft.  
"I would not expect such fanciful lies, nor would I care for them."  
Dracula slowed his pace and turned to Verona.  
"We knew it would come to this. I will not repent for the execution of murderers and madmen on my land." His expression shifted from businesslike to one of underlying steely anger.  
"I was there my Lord," she bowed her head to him. "I know your actions delivered not one half of the retribution those men deserved."  
Dracula put a finger under the chin of the raven-haired woman before him and raised her face to his.  
"I would do it again in a second, to have you safe from them. I will fight all of Rome and anybody else who takes exception." He bowed his head slowly, then kissed her hand and whisked away.

Now, hours later, Verona sat in the courtyard with her eyes on the door, the windows of the war room, straining for any sign of movement within. She did not ponder the unfairness of the situation, nor did she waste any thought in calculating ways to avoid the upcoming conflict. Her master was a righteous man, and in this course of action she could not reproach his resolve nor his motivations. Her role was as his supporter, his rock, whatever he needed she was willing to give him.

It seemed such a short time since she had come to Castle Dracula, since that fateful time. In truth it was almost two winters ago that her small village had become host to a party of Hungarian soldiers on their way to Bucharest at the command of Rome. The season had been a particularly harsh one, and an overnight snowfall marooned their small community for some time. The townsfolk had given the soldiers as warm a welcome as could be summoned for an army that had been of dubious loyalty for as long as many of them had been alive. An uneasy entente had survived barely three days before being shattered by a bar-room upset that has spiraled out of control in the most horrific of ways. Many good men were slain by the Hungarians, as error compounded error, principle vied with dignity, and sense and logic were abandoned by an army who would rather become criminals of the worst order than be beaten into submission by a band of ragamuffin, rural folk. Verona remembered with palpable terror the sound of splintering wood and the screaming of her sister as the door to their home had been broken down in the middle of the night. Her father, reaching for his rifle was immediately shot, and her sister dragged away and never seen again. Verona fought the men, who laughed at her struggles and grabbed at her through the sheets and robes she clung to. She fought ferociously and was rewarded for her efforts with a fist that left her jaw throbbing for days. That night was merely the beginning of many she spent in the dark, wondering if they would come for her and if she could fight them off one more time.

There was a loud bang as a door swung outwards and hit the wall, and Verona jumped from her seat on the edge of the well. She looked wildly around her for a moment, feeling the residue of fear falling away from her as she registered that she safe. Memories could not hurt her, but they certainly still managed to shake her. She saw Dracula coming down the stairs towards her and a warmth infused her body, driving away the cold, dark thoughts of the past. As he had rescued her then, he had it in his power now to make her feel protected and sheltered by his mere presence. She took in his fine features, his glossy black hair and pale skin and was, as ever, completely besotted by him. He smiled softly as he approached.  
"I know that look," he said quietly, in mock chastisement. "Your thoughts are not becoming of a lady."  
She blushed happily.  
"I care not but that my thoughts are becoming of you, my Lord."  
"And that they are." He said contentedly, looking warmly upon her. As swift as a change of the wind, his expression grew distant, and he spoke again. "Come, walk with me a while."  
They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Verona broke the quiet.  
"We knew it would happen like this sooner or later."  
"Yes."  
"And I want you to know I have not forgotten what we talked about. I will go to Bistritz and on up the river when the time comes."  
Dracula sighed, a breath heavy with relief.  
"Tirgoviste will be too unsafe when the conflict arrives here – and it will arrive."  
"Yes, my Lord." She would not let him see her fear.  
"What did I do to deserve you, Verona?" Dracula's voice seemed heavy with regret.  
"You gave me my life." She said simply. "I owe you everything."  
He turned and pulled her to him, disregarding the secretive glances of townspeople pretending to go about their business, and kissed her deeply.  
"I must go to work, my love," he said huskily. "I must bid you farewell until later."  
Verona clung to him, and he stroked her hair, understanding, until she relaxed enough for him to extricate himself gently.

"When will you ride out to meet them?" she called faintly to his retreating form.  
"First light tomorrow." Came his reply. He did not turn back.


End file.
